


Let Me Breathe

by eternalsunshinee



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, More angst, Unrequited Love, i made dongwoo such an asshole sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:24:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsunshinee/pseuds/eternalsunshinee
Summary: " It’s like a fucking metaphor when the car veers into a pothole, swerving a bit before Dongwoo takes control of it again, his breath sticking to his throat. It’s dangerous, careless. The back of his mind whispers that it’s exactly what falling into Myungsoo means - veering heedlessly into potholes. "





	Let Me Breathe

un·re·quit·ed

ˌənrəˈkwīdəd/

adjective: **unrequited**

 

_of a feeling, especially love not returned or rewarded._

 

***

 

Dongwoo falls into Kim Myungsoo on a stereotypically rainy day.

 

The rain brutally hits Dongwoo’s useless car, lightning sizzles in the distance, sparking in the night sky. The broken heater in his car hums unpleasantly, as it tries it’s best to work with all its gears and inner workings destroyed. The radio produces a background sound of some American song that Dongwoo doesn’t know and doesn’t care to know. 

It’s cold in the car, under 3 layers of thick cotton and Dongwoo can still feel the freezing air seep into his bones. Myungsoo sits curled up in the passenger seat, a brown coat draped over his shivering body - something left over from members taking free trips in his car, yet Myungsoo still seems cold under it, his sleeping form occasionally wrapping around himself, trying to gather as much warmth as possible.

 

Dongwoo falls for petrifying purity and guilelessness, falls for sharp features illuminated by the street lamps and traffic lights.

 

He studies Myungsoo’s features for a careless two to three seconds,counting clusters of freckles and dark brown beauty marks. Myungsoo becomes god-like in those seconds, almost unattainable, although Dongwoo stays sure that if he’d put out a hand he’d be able to sweep the bangs from Myungsoo’s closed eyes. The effect stays, and Myungsoo is as beautiful as the moon in the night sky, hidden between thunderclouds in deadly poisonous nights. 

It’s like a fucking metaphor when the car veers into a pothole, swerving a bit before Dongwoo takes control of it again, his breath sticking to his throat. It’s dangerous, careless. The back of his mind whispers that it’s exactly what falling into Myungsoo means - veering heedlessly into potholes.

 

They kissed earlier that day, in harsh neon lights of a  club, between sweaty bodies who sound like broken promises between dirty groans. Myungsoo kisses deeply and with purpose, shoves a shameless tongue into Dongwoo’s throat as if they’ve kissed a million times before. Dongwoo believes that Myungsoo is fearless, as if this whole occasion was his idea.

Dongwoo swears he was the one to drag reluctant closeted Myungsoo into a gay club. But at that moment, Myungsoo was high on alcohol and something so purely human that absolutely weeps unto Dongwoo’s lips.

Dongwoo tries to whisper that they’re too famous to be kissing in _public_ , Myungsoo smiles sweetly and Dongwoo tastes cyanide burning into his lips, thick and indigestible.

 

And he lets himself be dragged, dragged into the kiss and dragged into Myungsoo. He feels the harsh ends of Myungsoo’s nails graze at his scalp, his body curving and melting into Dongwoo’s shape. Its utterly flawless, he thinks, as the expensive smell of Myungsoo’s perfume floods his senses.

 

He can’t help but think of how well they fit together. Like puzzle pieces from opposite sides of the board, coincidentally matching, all the wrong colors and mismatched shapes, imperfect and incorrect. Two opposites to cause only damage to the individual pieces.

 

Myungsoo whispers rotten words when he drags Dongwoo to the dimly lit bathroom, his breath warm against Dongwoo’s lips, his hips blazing fire against Dongwoo’s own.

 

Dongwoo fucks him like he deserves to be fucked. Hot and lovely, tenacious and absolute. Myungsoo is as anyone would imagine he’d be. He’s so _needy_ , touching and biting and kissing Dongwoo anywhere he may reach, cherry lips with the beg of _‘hyung’_ and some chain of unintelligible whines and groans, muffled into the third layer of Dongwoo’s clothes. Dongwoo sucks and kisses without any sense of control, leaves hickies in inappropriate places and bruises on the expanse of Myungsoo’s thighs. Myungsoo complains about the stain in his expensive dress shirt through a glittery mirror, eyes heavy and loaded.

 

Now he’s curled up in Dongwoo’s car, fatal and innocent. Dongwoo can still feel the crescents from Myungsoo’s nails on his skin, can still taste the sweat on his skin. Tastes the bitterness of his release on his lower abdomen and in the back of his throat, resting heavy in his stomach.

 

The heat of their bodies still hadn’t faded when they reach the dorm, Myungsoo puts a hand to cover the hickies on his throat and laughs pretty when Sungyeol gapes at them, asking meaningless questions that neither try to answer. Hoya sees glitter on Dongwoo’s skin and asks _when’s the wedding?_ Dongwoo smiles as wide as he can and gives him a hidden middle finger.

 

They collapse on a bed that isn’t theirs, the sickly sweet smell signals it must belong to Woohyun who has developed a liking to cheap perfume, or perhaps women who wear cheap perfume.

 

Woohyun is out of the dorm for an acting gig, and so he let’s Myungsoo strip out of constricting clothes, lets him strip Dongwoo’s clothes as well. Dongwoo thinks he loves Myungsoo when he feels their feet tangle, when he lets Myungsoo’s head rest on his chest. Myungsoo giggles and Dongwoo’s chest bubbles.

 

Myungsoo's hot hot lips whisper _“I love you, hyung”_ into Dongwoo's collarbone, calm and docile, voice so soft.

 

Dongwoo stays silent.

 

***

 

_“Aren't we allowed to fall in love with each other?”_

 

Myungsoo asks, lacing their fingers together. Something about his eyes is equally terrifying and comforting in the moonlight. The calm sort of midnight breeze that blows at the burnt ends of his hair leaves him beautiful and vulnerable.

 

“We're idols, Myungsoo.” He says, words acidic as they burn through the expanse of his tongue. “If anyone finds out --”

 

“What? What will happen, hyung?” Myungsoo is starting to get angry, but Dongwoo can't help but admire the innocence reeking out of those words, swearing he'd do anything to protect it and contain it. “Will we lose our jobs? Our families?”

 

“I don’t know.” he admits, and he doesn’t know how to tell Myungsoo that _nobody knows_. Nobody has walked this path to tell the tale. Dongwoo squeezes at Myungsoo’s hand when he shifts his gaze to the stars, Dongwoo sees the hint of a quiver on his lips.

 

Dongwoo doesn’t know pain just as Myungsoo doesn’t know love.

 

Myungsoo's pain is _intricate_. A kind of heat settled in the pit of his stomach, somewhere deep beneath his skin, ingrained and contained. Thick layers of emotional neglect and the stifling weight of such a secret shoved down his throat, into his veins and genes. Myungsoo deals with pain as an alcoholist would with alcohol. Shoving all his pain to a hidden spot in the corners of his mind.

 

But pain is clear, it’s a harsh distinct feeling that twists your insides. Be it physical pain or emotional, the taste of blood still sticks to the caverns of your mouth. A completely cruel feature, yet endlessly useful.

 

Dongwoo’s experience with pain is limited. Limited to the pounding of hangovers and blood that can’t be washed away from white dress shirts.

 

And Myungsoo.

 

Yet _love,_ _love_ remains undefinable. Something so purely figurative, it can be linked to the clench at one’s stomach, coughing up dead butterflies. Hands squeezed and blood on the knuckles, raw and honest, a sweet lie wrapped up in a makeshift bow from bandages. Perhaps it’s the taste of dollar worth strawberry chapstick burning unto Dongwoo’s body at a five star restaurant’s bathroom.

 

He decides finally that night, with his fingers combing through straightened hair, that _love_ and _pain_ are completely intertwined and inseparable - two sides of the same rusted over coin.

 

_“I don’t want to be so afraid, hyung.”_

 

Myungsoo is crying with his head buried in Dongwoo’s chest, silent sobs bursting out of chest in low gasps, wetting Dongwoo’s sleep shirt.

 

And they don’t do this often; _cuddling_. Schedules far too tight to allow any space for intimacy, whatever they may do, it needs to be _fast._ Something relieving, to quench their own longing. A beg for more and more and more.

 

They’re both free tomorrow,only after Dongwoo’s persistent begging for Myungsoo to take a sick day, to settle his head.

 

“You shouldn’t be,” he says, burying his nose in Myungsoo’s hair, smelling his own shampoo in the locks. “None of us should be.”

 

The taste of Myungsoo begins to gather up at his bloodstream. He’s so lightheaded on everything that is Myungsoo. And he wishes, wishes so much that he’d never have felt true heartbreak. That he’d never left his heart with someone who could never use it. Wishes he couldn’t tell, that his mind would refuse to believe one simple fact.

 

Dongwoo is not, and perhaps will never be in love with Kim Myungsoo.

 

***

 

_“I’m gay.”_

 

Dongwoo stops then, his fingers a fraction away from bruising at Myungsoo’s hips, his lips tracing the outline of Myungsoo’s collarbones.

 

Myungsoo’s voice is strained, perhaps yearning  to let the words get lost between groans and the sounds of skin against skin. He spits it out almost as if it were a parasite, words thrown out far enough to tattoo them unto Dongwoo’s own skin.

 

Dongwoo’s eyes examine Myungsoo’s expression, with his eyes clenched shut and sweaty bangs sticking to his face. To his lips that are swollen and bitten raw. To the red blossoming across his chest and his cheeks. He’s absolutely terrified, Dongwoo realizes.

 

He thinks of the shoes of the first boy he’d ever fallen in love with, how his eyes never left his blue shoelaces as his mind raced and raced, lips forming the words before he dared to even think of them. He thinks of the heat of his mother’s hands, holding his head steadily, how she promised she’d always love him.

 

And he thinks, finally, that he wants to fall into Myungsoo. To give himself wholly to this boy who dares to trust Dongwoo with the thing that paints _that_ poison between the words.

 

Myungsoo deserves a better love, one that knows the words of his solo song, one that looks at him with bliss and would never ignore his phone calls. But now, now Myungsoo needs _him_.

 

Dongwoo sighs, kissing Myungsoo as delicately as he can manage. Eyelashes fluttering like the butterflies in his arteries. He pulls back, looking into wide pupils and a stray trace of mascara on his lashes.

 

“Okay.”

 

Myungsoo’s eyes flutter, searching for something. A trace of doubt, of judgement.

 

“What?” he asks.

 

Dongwoo chuckles giving Myungsoo a sweet little kiss again.

 

“ _Myungsoo -_ -” he whispers between their lips “ -  It’d be kind of awkward if you weren’t.”

 

He pulls back, eyes flickering down to where their bodies are still connected. Myungsoo brings his hands to cover at his face when he chuckles as the blush on his chest darkens. Dongwoo can’t help but laugh as well.

 

After a few seconds, he takes Myungsoo’s hands off, leaning to kiss his forehead softly, making Myungsoo laugh again.

 

“I am too, you know?” he says, his fingertips trailing comforting butterfly kisses on Myungsoo's hips, which tremble at his touch. Dongwoo faintly remembers how ticklish Myungsoo is. Myungsoo blinks shyly up at him,  eyes almost sparkling with unshed tears.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

  
  


Myungsoo is soft and pliant that night, giving himself over to hands and lips and touch so completely that it’s _dizzying_. He groans soft and whimsical into Dongwoo’s ear, leaving red burning trails on his back and hickies on his chest. There’s something so dreamlike about the situation, so much so that lines get blurred and Dongwoo allows himself to fall in love with the invisible scars on his skin, on the taste of muffled gasps and whispers or begs.

 

Dongwoo doesn’t think right then - he just _feels._

 

He doesn’t think of lies being trickled into the innards of Myungsoo’s body, doesn’t think of heartache or the nausea nestled at the bottom of his throat. Tries not to think he’s leading a lamb to slaughter.

 

He trails a rain of kisses over the residue of sweat on Myungsoo’s body - from the spot under his ear, down the column of his neck, two kisses land on each collarbone before he rises to kiss Myungsoo on his red lips.

 

They break apart when Myungsoo’s giggle oxidizes into Dongwoo’s blood, bubbling from the younger’s throat.

 

“You’re so good to me, hyung.” he whispers, fingers tangling in the baby hairs on the back of Dongwoo’s neck. Dongwoo feels his heart shatter slightly, piercing at his lungs. “Good, kind, loving. As should be expected from our angel.”

 

“Myungsoo -” he tries.

 

“I don’t -- I don’t _care_ if you disagree.” he says, gaze unfaltering. “I trust you, I trust you’d never hurt me. No one has ever done that.”

 

Dongwoo tries to smile, tries to get that feeling back. Of falling,falling so far into everything Myungsoo is and isn’t. Tries to fall in love with the very essence of his being.

 

He falls short, and Myungsoo smiles like an angel and kisses him anyways.

 

***

 

Myungsoo makes him coffee one morning.

 

Three spoons of sugar sit heavy at the bottom of the mug, properly unmixed. The swirl of foam is white and speckled with brown freckles of coffee powder. The mug is cracked in several spot and searing hot when Dongwoo tries to hold it.

 

Myungsoo has hope combining with the warm brown sugar of his eyes, glittering at him with such expectancy, Dongwoo feels his blood run hot.

 

“Is it okay?” asks Myungsoo in a timid tone he hardly uses with Dongwoo, his fingers tapping on the wooden table.

 

Dongwoo swallows a mixture of bittersweet longing, feeling it lodge in his throat, choking him up with entrancing sort of thoughts. Myungsoo bites his lip and Dongwoo loses a train of thought.

 

“It's…” he starts, glancing at Myungsoo’s lovesick eyes before he returns to the mug. “It's sweet, don't you think?”

 

Myungsoo’s eyes widen a fraction, his leg begins to bounce up and down under the table. It’s almost unbearable, the impervious tension sizzling at the air between them.

 

“Is it?” Myungsoo asks, Dongwoo feels the shake of his fingertips when they gently take the mug out of Dongwoo’s hands.

 

Myungsoo takes a slow sip, the steady rhythm of his leg begins to drive Dongwoo crazy. He convinces himself it's his fatigue and his need for non-sweetened coffee.

 

“It's just how I take it,” Myungsoo mumbles, placing the mug gingerly on the table. His eyes turn to Dongwoo again, full of disappointment and emotions that are far too ugly on a lovely face like his.

 

“It's fine, really.” Dongwoo tries to assure him, carefully placing his hand over Myungsoo’s own on the cracked handle. “It's just sweet.”

 

It's heartbreaking, really. The way Myungsoo shakes over a coffee. With his eyes beginning to moisten as he tries to control his breathing, at his trembling hands and _goddamn_ bouncing leg.

 

Myungsoo kisses him quick and silent when he stands up, almost as if to ground himself, before he completely loses himself. He stands at the sink kind of aimlessly, fingers gripping at the tiles, yet completely unmovable.

 

Dongwoo sits at the kitchen counter and watches as Myungsoo starts thinking and _thinking_ , sees how he destroys himself with the echo of Dongwoo's own words.

 

Dongwoo knows he's a bit harsh on Myungsoo, because Myungsoo _tried_. Because Myungsoo had seen and studied every tiny detail in Dongwoo's coffee mug. Knows that Dongwoo’s coffee makes sugar addict Woohyun cringe, knows that the overwhelming taste of milk makes Sunggyu cough up a lung.

 

Myungsoo tries with his over eager hands and his loving eyes to make Dongwoo love the imperfections in the mug, tries to convince Dongwoo that what saves the dish was the _effort_. That the simple extra spoon of sugar and the broken leaf and the crack in the handle are forgivable because it's _Myungsoo_. _Myungsoo_ with heady puppy eyes and manicured nails and burnt split ends.

 

Dongwoo sees Myungsoo hand out the mug to Sungjong, who smiles sweetly and downs the mug in mere seconds. Sungjong doesn't see the crack, he doesn't see the speckled foam.

Maybe Sungjong only sees _Myungsoo_ , as he is. Excited shaking hands and an overbearing mug.

 

***

 

Dongwoo feels the sting of Sungyeol's eyes on the back of his neck.

 

It's itchy, burning - blazing hot fire in his muscles and bones. It's something truly ridiculous, Sungyeol who is tall and lanky, limbs kind of awkward with every stiff movement, looks at Dongwoo and Myungsoo with this strange sort of power when they enter the room.

 

They practice and practice until the room smells of thick sweat, the floor squeaks against their sneakers, and Myungsoo stands next to him and smells like his old perfume, the one he has at the bottom of his drawer that cost him way too much, the one saved for fancy events and for nights with Dongwoo.

 

Their new song is quite interchangeable from the rest, a manly tinge to a predictable love song. About a pretty girl with pretty eyes and pretty legs and pretty pretty pretty. The words lose meaning as he mouths them over and over, something unrequited and desperate, fake with the words thrown up on a piece of paper, but with a sense of anguish that appeals to every lonely teenage girl.

 

Their steps hit the wooden floor with power, numbers echo from the walls to count the steps, keeping sync and perfection. Dongwoo struggles to catch his breath when they repeat a move over and over, Myungsoo stutters at some steps because of the ankle injury that he never reported, They have two weeks until the comeback and Myungsoo can't afford to rest or walk properly.

 

Sungyeol stares at them both all the way through, eyes hard and unrelenting through the mirror. When Dongwoo traces a comfortable hand over Myungsoo's bicep, Myungsoo sighs and Sungyeol glares even harder. Myungsoo rests a sweaty head on Dongwoo's shoulder and Sungyeol's hand tightens on his water bottle.

 

They finish the practice with seven boys on a dirty wooden floor, spent and overworked to the point of collapse. They have a good company, one that owes all their success to them, so they pay them with gratitude and generosity - of course, the girls on the other side of the line aren’t so lucky, handed a nearly empty can to take from - but Woollim treats them as well as they can, giving them enough rest and enough schedules to assure **_no one_** leaves.

But sometimes Dongwoo wishes for it to end. To get enough sleep, to not dance on fractured ankles and to not have Sunggyu screaming at him for messing up a simple move.

 

Sungyeol stays later, when everyone besides Dongwoo and Myungsoo had left, and Dongwoo starts feeling that same burn spreading across his body, Sungyeol simply stands with his back to the wall, unblinking with his gaze towards Dongwoo, and in extension, Myungsoo. Who is sticking to the sweat on Dongwoo's back, biting coyly at the collar of his shirt.

 

“Do you think he knows?” whispers Myungsoo, muffled by the shirt in his mouth.

 

Dongwoo knows that he does. That Sungyeol knows far too much. Because Sungyeol is clever and observant. Too much, for Dongwoo’s taste.

 

“Isn't he your best friend?” he asks instead, he remembers when Woohyun told him _the best way to lie, is to **ask.**_

 

Myungsoo gives a little nip to Dongwoo’s shoulder, whining softly into the skin or the fabric, arms tightening around Dongwoo’s waist.

 

“I don't know anymore.” he whispers, Dongwoo sighs at the melancholy in his voice, raising hands to squeeze at those arms around him, trying not to glance up for Sungyeol’s reaction. Instead, he hears footsteps approaching and feels Myungsoo stiffen.

 

He looks up to meet Sungyeol’s fake smile, eyes still as hard as before.

 

“I was wondering, hyung.” he says. “If you could help me with this new move, I can’t seem to get it right.”

 

Dongwoo sees Sungyeol’s eyes drift to somewhere at his left, somewhere being Myungsoo. Who shoves his nose deeper into Dongwoo’s shirt and skin.

 

Dongwoo's a bit skeptic of this situation, well really, his stomach is - by the way it's twisting and rolling, rising to his throat. He feels the way his skin rises with goosebumps and his hands begin to sweat. Myungsoo groans quietly, his arms tightening around Dongwoo's chest.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Myungsoo asks, voice kind of timid and kind of scared, fingernails scraping at Dongwoo’s shirt.

 

Sungyeol shrugs. “I don’t mind either way.”

 

Myungsoo groans, giving a last bite to Dongwoo's shoulder. Barely painful, mostly needy, annoyed, before he untangles his body from Dongwoo, giving an annoyed huff towards Sungyeol, who sticks out his tongue in turn.

 

He turns once more to Dongwoo, blinking steadily at him.

 

Dongwoo puts down his water bottle and crosses his arms, unconsciously puffing up his chest. Perhaps to appear more threatening, to soften the blow of whatever’s to come.

 

“So,” he starts. “What do you need?”

 

Sungyeol huffs again, this time it's heavy with disdain, hard hitting and suffocating. He takes a step forwards, limiting the space between their bodies to two breaths.

 

“Break up with Myungsoo,” he says, simple as that. Words cutting the centimeter of breathing space between them, scraping against Dongwoo's skin in a way reminiscent to Myungsoo’s teeth.

 

Dongwoo is mostly surprised, not that Sungyeol knows, not that he dares to suggest this. Maybe just at the bluntness of it all, shamelessness and stiffness of his pose.

 

“Huh?” he asks, simply, doing his best to look surprised.

 

“Break up with Myungsoo, hyung.”

 

Dongwoo knew this was where the conversation was heading. Had seen Sungyeol glancing at Myungsoo's hands as they traced up Dongwoo's thigh, has seen the way he clenched his jaw when Dongwoo grabbed Myungsoo by his pretty waist.

 

Because Sungyeol notices. Sungyeol is far too observant and far too clever. And while the other members tilt their heads at Myungsoo curled against Dongwoo on Sunday mornings, and the kiss on Myungsoo's neck or shoulder only earns a couple of worried blinks. Sungyeol notices, Sungyeol knows Myungsoo and has been in the same house with the two of them for 7 years.

 

So Dongwoo decides to lie - either way, Sungyeol was at the veins of his throat, curdling in his bloodstream, threatening to cause his system to shut down.

 

“I'm not dating your best friend, Sungyeol.”

 

“Maybe.” Sungyeol nods slowly, his words hitting Dongwoo’s forehead. “But Myungsoo is dating _you_.”

 

Dongwoo takes a bit longer to process that, trying to understand the complexity of such a sentence. And it's a big one. Crawling under Dongwoo's skin, embedding in his cuticles. Dongwoo backs away, because Sungyeol is too close.

 

Dongwoo thinks that Sungyeol’s words have always been as cruel as they were honest. Like shooting up morphine up his blood, direct and lethal.

 

He huffs, shrugging the words off. “All due respect Yeollie, but mind your own damn business.”

 

His skin itches and boils, begging to leave the airtight room. He manages to tear his eyes away from Sungyeol's unrelenting ones. The ground becomes even more uncomfortable to look at when Sungyeol laughs. Empty, hollow.

 

“My own damn business huh?” He sounds bemused, and perhaps he is. “If you haven't noticed, hyung, _you're_ my business. So is Myungsoo and so is Sunggyu and so is Hoya. It's this **_fucking_** group, this is my income and my life, and I believe it's the same for you. If you two want to tear each other up, go for it man, I couldn't care less who Myungsoo fucks or doesn't.

 

“But it's fucking all of us over, why? Because he's _terrified_ , hyung. He's terrified and love sick and whatever the fuck it is, It's in his performance and in his eyes and the _fans_ are starting to notice. And that's a problem for _all of us._

So I am minding my own business, hyung. When will you handle yours?”

 

Dongwoo's throat tightens up. He can feel Sungyeol caring, under all the anger, under the blaming and the undeniable fear he has - He cares. He cares for his best friend and in the end, he cares for Infinite, probably more than Dongwoo would even imagine.

 

The _fans_ are always a hard hitting point. Because in the end, the fans make or break them. They're their life and everything good and bad in it. They practically create the people INFINITE are, or perhaps whoever the company wants them to be.

 

He hadn't noticed, in truth. How Myungsoo is stumbling on stage, how he misses notes and stumbles around his words. How his eyes linger around in Dongwoo's peripheral vision. The comments say that Dongwoo hurt him, said something cruel and broke their poor visual’s heart. And maybe, maybe he did.

 

“I'm handling it.” He says finally, looking up to meet Sungyeol's eyes again. They've stopped being toe curling, now they're just scared.

 

“I really don't think you are, hyung.” Sungyeol is far too tense now, the air between the two of them is practically sizzling. Dongwoo and Sungyeol had always been kind of uncomfortable with each other. Perhaps it's since debut, the concept of a person who's faking his persona so strongly on the screen has always irked Dongwoo. His infamous gummy smile always seemed to stretch too thin on his face.

 

But maybe it's ever since he heard Sungyeol whispering lowly to Hoya, something cruel and unmistakable.

 

_I think he's pretending hyung. Pretending to be this good._

 

Dongwoo doesn't really fight with people, it isn't in his nature. He usually avoids conflict whenever he can. Most would call him good-natured, the fans go as far as calling him an angel, but really, he can't handle the idea of hurting any of his friends, Sungyeol included. So he ignored it, giving him words like plastic in turn, trying his best to be as kind as he could to the younger.

 

“Do you love him?”

 

His words drip like acid unto the floor between them, Dongwoo's blood runs cold.

 

“I don't see how this is releva-”

 

“Do you, or do you not -- ” Sungyeol interrupts “-- love him, Dongwoo?”

 

Dongwoo tries to think about Myungsoo then, the real one. Who cried when Dongwoo held his hand for the first time, who laughs way too hard from Woohyun’s terrible jokes, who hides behind his hands when he's embarrassed. Dongwoo tries to think of Myungsoo, who looks like pure sin on the expanse of his bedsheets, with cheeks flared red and his voice cracking on whimpers and moans.

 

And he says, lightly, brokenly;

 

“I don't know.”

 

***

 

“Are you okay, hyung?” asks Myungsoo from next to him, placing a hand on Dongwoo’s arm which was shaking, apparently. It’s meant to be a comforting gesture, assuring. But the heat of Myungsoo’s skin practically burns Dongwoo, maybe even literally with the way he pushes Myungsoo off in shock.

 

He looks up to see Myungsoo’s wide eyes, hand stilled in the air, and Dongwoo’s heat beats strangely, a discomfort sort of pounding in his chest.

 

“Don’t you feel them staring at us?” he hisses to him, looking around the room at the line of (mostly) girls lined up before them. All holding some accessory and notebook for them to sign and take. Myungsoo’s eyebrows furrow, looking at Dongwoo strangely.

 

“Them? The fans?”

 

Dongwoo nods, making Myungsoo smile softly.

 

“We’re idols, hyung. Our job is to be stared at.” he says, hair swishing with the way he’s shaking with a soft chuckle.

 

“I know that, of course. “ Dongwoo sighs. “I just mean, at _us_.”

 

Myungsoo stiffens at that. “Us? Why?”

 

Dongwoo leans in, looking around at the line beginning to move from where Sunggyu is at the head of the table.

 

“We aren’t careful enough, Myungsoo.”

 

Myungsoo gapes then, about to say something when a young girl appears before him, calmly waving for his attention. Myungsoo coughs and straightens up, naturally giving her a warm smile. Dongwoo spots the blossoming blush on the girl’s cheeks between her shy smile. Myungsoo signs her notebook and ruffles her hair, flustering her even further.

 

The girl skips Dongwoo, giving him a hard look, still intimidating even with the red bow in her hair and her puffy cheeks. Dongwoo is a bit shocked, even more than before. But he supposes she just doesn’t like him very much. As idols, they try not to get worked up on that sort of thing.

 

Myungsoo huffs in surprise when she skips Dongwoo, giving a small _“that was weird.”_ that Sungjong chuckles about behind his hand.

 

It becomes even weirder when another girl does it, and another one, and another, and a boy does as well. All sparing him one single hurt glance.

 

The ride back to the dorm is tense. Heavy with things unsaid and questions unanswered. Myungsoo sleeps against Dongwoo's shoulder as the vehicle fills with the sound of Sungyeol's music through his headphones. Dongwoo always wonders what he's listening to, and why there's always so much screaming.

 

Sunggyu is the leader, but he's not always the most insightful or observant person. That spot is usually left for Sungyeol and Sungjong, who are both quiet and calm in stressful situations. Sunggyu is neither, and tends to just shift the responsibility to whoever is not crying at that very moment.

 

But his words that day are what bring Dongwoo's mind to a halt, they're what drives the point home and becomes the first hole in the sinking boat.

 

“You don't think it's because of those damn rumors, do you?”

 

He thinks that if he were standing, his legs would have collapsed. He feels shivers wreck through his body so fast, it's as if his veins flow with an electric current slowing moving towards his heart.

 

Hoya huffs next to him, an earbud in his hand. “Doubt it. And even if, they'd forget about it soon.”

 

Sungjong gives Dongwoo a warm look, nodding. “Rumors pass, hyung. Even if they're true.”

 

Sungjong _knows_ rumors, he realizes. Knows they're a tough of a pill to swallow. Sungjong's eyes are compassionate but not pitying. Dongwoo immediately feels a bit better.

 

Dongwoo dares to think that the fans are angry at the wrong person, and then he thinks that he’s ridiculously selfish for thinking that. Because Myungsoo’s infatuated with Dongwoo’s idea of love, and maybe Dongwoo’s love is a bit reckless and dangerous. _Selfish and selfless_ Myungsoo would say, something purely ironic and devastating in a curved smile with his crying eyes.

 

Myungsoo is so _stifling_. Not by the way he kisses or the way he mumbles breathless whimpers at the dead of night, but just because he _is_. Dongwoo wonders if Myungsoo falls in love with Dongwoo or he falls in love with love.

 

Sungyeol gives him a look, lacking the terrifying notion of their last conversation, empathy and apathy show on his face simultaneously, and then Dongwoo realizes Sungyeol isn’t looking at him at all, but at Myungsoo, who shifts and cuddles deeper into Dongwoo.

 

“Just fix it before it’s too late, hyung.” Sungyeol whispers, and that’s where the conversation ends.

 

***

 

Words become meaningless when they’re thrust into Myungsoo’s mouth, chasing the bitter taste of black coffee on his tongue.

 

Myungsoo has always been loud, broken whines into pillows, desperate little begs sung between Dongwoo’s name. But now he’s connected to speakers, voice echoing from the walls of the empty dorm. Fingers chasing between something to hold unto on the fridge he was shoved against, to anywhere on Dongwoo’s body that he can reach.

 

The younger really shouldn’t be allowed to wear anything, with the way he looks bare. Dongwoo has his teeth digging into the column of his neck, hands teasing the fabric of Myungsoo’s oversized sleepshirt. Not trusting himself yet with the feel of Myungsoo’s soft soft skin, afraid to ruin the fun before it begins.

 

Dongwoo loves to spoil Myungsoo, Myungsoo adores being spoiled and pampered. Loves whatever Dongwoo gives him. Soft touches accompanied with carpet burns on his knees or the chafing of metal against his wrists with the taste of filthy words from Dongwoo’s mouth. Ranging from the sore muscles in Myungsoo’s jaw and the taste of obscenity and depravity on his tongue.

 

They’re eager, maybe because it’s been too long, too many schedules and shows, the only touches are hidden under dinner tables, fingers tracing the curve of a thigh, a brush of lips against Dongwoo’s ear that whisper something lacking any importance in the middle of a show, making Dongwoo miss steps. Maybe it’s just always like this, always a sort of greedy hunger laid over the both of them. Myungsoo’s fingernails scrape across Dongwoo’s skull and he swears that he’s never felt as divine.

 

“I missed you.” Myungsoo sobs between their lips. “So much, _fuck_.”

 

Dongwoo can only kiss him harder, wanting to drag it out, still shying away from touching his soft skin, even as Myungsoo begins arching and pressing and touching, _pleading_ for skin on skin contact. Head thrown back against the fridge door, the handle digging into their sides.

 

“The rumors --” he gasps, fingers grasping at Dongwoo’s button up. “The mv filming - _shit_ \- all of it.”

 

Dongwoo bites at the spot under Myungsoo’s ear, feeling him shudder, then moan when Dongwoo slides a knee between his legs.

 

“We’ve been so busy, I was so - _ah_ \- overwhelmed and stressed and --” he seems to forget his words then, because he dives in for another kiss, licking at Dongwoo’s teeth.

 

Dongwoo thinks he’s drowning. Absolutely drowning in the overwhelming feeling flooding the room, closing up his airways and filling his lungs. The liquid sticky and dense, black and gooey as it slides down his body.

Dongwoo doesn’t usually say much during these moments, letting the sensations guide his body and using his mouth for more useful things. Worshipping and tracing every perfect imperfection and every tight curve on Myungsoo’s skin. But he speaks this time, of nonsensical poetry and drugged out nightmares.

 

Like _you’re pretty_ and _I can’t handle the wait_ and _I want to make you whole_ and _I think I’m in love with you._

 

He doesn’t know if Myungsoo is moaning because of his words or his movements inside him, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The words are out and tangled with the oxygen in the air, falling into the abyss between their mouths. Because nothing matters when Myungsoo is like this, nothing matters when Myungsoo’s hair begins to sweat and curl back to its regretful natural form, nothing matters when the smell of sex tints the air and dirties the sheets.

 

Myungsoo comes down his high with a blissed out sigh, fingers curling on Dongwoo’s jean jacket, with Dongwoo falling in love with his blown out pupils and the pulled dry skin on his lips. And he thinks it’s tragic and appropriate to become completely enraptured with Kim Myungsoo the moment where his back begins to sting from his bitten nails. With Myungsoo whispering various declarations of love into the tendon of his neck. And he whispers lovelily back, promising eden and beyond.

 

He drags them both to Myungsoo’s bed, where the younger immediately falls asleep. He stares for a bit too long, at structured features, at the bruises beginning to form on Myungsoo’s hips, at where his skin still glistens with sweat. He doesn’t know how he says it, how the words dare to escape, but he looks at Myungsoo and thinks of falling in love and of pretty hills and houses smelling of his expensive perfume. And he finds himself saying it.

 

_“I love you.”_

 

***

 

None of them expected the article.

 

Rumors are a _bitch_. They’re cold and merciless, cruel as they bleed from mouth to ear. Each of them had their fair share of them, a trauma stuck in between their fingernails and a cold truth pouring out from the cracks. None dare to forget Sungjong’s constant tear tracks or Myungsoo's eerie silence. The effect is so widespread, hurting every member in its own way.

 

But rumors die _out_. Rumors can be controlled and put out. Because, as hilarious as it, the _fans_ spread the rumors. All the fans need is a few words of assurance and they'd believe anything is false.

 

Articles, though, are almost bloodthirsty in the way they attack. A collection of rumors stuffed into one terrible, lie filled article.

 

Because Myungsoo's heart wasn't breaking, was not drying out between the planks in the practice floor as the comments said. Dongwoo didn't break the group with only his look.

 

Myungsoo overflows all at once, heaving breaths between his paper thin lungs on a cold Friday night. His phone has cracks on the floor from where he dropped it, eyeing it from the corner he's stuffed in.

 

Dongwoo is too scared to talk when he enters, scared of Myungsoo's fear, maybe. Scared of how tight the breathing space becomes. How he explodes, explodes selfishly as the shrapnel hits them all, carving out all his pain into each and every one of them.

 

Dongwoo can't say he's not affected, his limbs stutter, his legs feel too weak to hold himself up as he stands at Myungsoo's door. The article was menacing in the way it portrayed him, as if he is responsible for all this pain.

 

It's not _true_ though, that's the kicker. INFINITE wasn't exactly notorious for getting into careless scandals, or garnering far fetched rumors. Usually if they had _anything_ , it was close to home. Myungsoo dated a girl for four months before he realized he couldn't feel anything. And Sungjong had come out two years prior to the rumor.

 

Myungsoo isn't looking at him, isn't looking much at anything, really. Eyes glassy as he stares at the shards of his phone screen, between the spider webs the title **_'INFINITE’s Dongwoo and INFINITE’s Myungsoo’s fight breaks up group?’_** appears.

 

“It's absolute bullshit, Myungsoo.” Says Dongwoo, feet tentatively inching towards Myungsoo, leaning down to put his broken phone on the bedside table. “CEO-nim is working on a statement already, it's all going to die out soon.”

 

“They're going to leave us.”

 

Myungsoo is shaking, lips quivering and toes curling on the tile floor.

 

Myungsoo gets like this sometimes. Emotional and terrified as he inflates his fear out of proportion. It doesn't matter who is _'they’_ \- the fans or their own members - Myungsoo still becomes hysterical. Sobs and heaves and loses coherence.

 

“Don't be dumb, Myungsoo. No one's going to leave us.” he says carefully, Myungsoo sends him a sullen look, eyes wet and red, meeting his eyes for the first time.

 

“This is going to hurt all of us. It's going to be in interviews and in the press and the **_fans_**. God the _fans._ ” He whimpers, Dongwoo wants to hold and touch him, comfort all this pain away - but he stays unmovable. “The fans will hate us. Just like with Do-yeon, they'll all leave.”

 

“Myungsoo …” he tries.

 

“My mom called, hyung.” He whines. “She called and asked me all these questions I -- I couldn't _answer_ or I even _explain_ it to her.”

 

“I don't even know what **_it_** is Hyung --” he stands up , and Dongwoo’s eyes travel up to meet his stone cold ones. “Am I your boyfriend? Your friend? Your group member? Or am I just a convenient **_fuck toy_**?”

 

Dongwoo can't breath right then, as Myungsoo's eyes begin to well up and heavy tears slides down his blistered cheeks.

 

“How is any of this related , Myungsoo? The article is full of _shit_ Myungsoo --”

 

“Frankly, hyung, I think you're full of shit.” Myungsoo says. “Because by _God_ I think I'm alone here. I love you more than I can _bear_ , more than I've ever thought I could.”

 

Dongwoo wants to scream, wants to tell him how much he despised himself for not falling in love right away. For being too reluctant to feel anything for him, much less love. How much he convinced himself that Myungsoo deserved so much better. Deserves to be loved by someone so much better, deserved to be treated like an angel and worshipped like a god. Breathless, he's so breathless that the word get stuck in his tightly wound veins.

 

“You have nothing to say?” Myungsoo cries.

 

And for the last time, he stays silent.

 

**

 

It started in an underlit club, with words sharpied unto bathroom walls and glitter mirrors, so it's only appropriate for it to end in one as well.

 

The articles was deleted, every trace eradicated with a formal statement from the CEO that _no_ , _there was no tear in INFINITE, they're here to stay._ And the tears stopped eventually.

 

Myungsoo isn't ignoring him anymore, giving him small smiles that put a fire down in Dongwoo's stomach, sometimes he laughs at Dongwoo's dumb jokes. Sometimes it feels right back to before that rainy winter night.

 

Myungsoo's skin sparkles with stars on, neon glitter and heavy sweat. Smelling of various colognes and perfumes. Eyes glassed over, giggling as he hangs off some foreigner’s mouth. Taking comfort in his anonymity , treats it with recklessness and pride.

 

Perhaps it’s pain, the reason he’s here, watching Myungsoo through the blurred out shapes in the club. Perhaps it’s curiosity.

 

Dongwoo gets to know pain once Myungsoo gets to know love, with constellations in his eyes and crumbling supernovas in Dongwoo’s stomach. Myungsoo catches his eye, smiling a mournful smile, eyes shining with a glimmer Dongwoo used to own.

Pain is insatiable, unquenchable.

 

Myungsoo is shining as he slowly begins to disappear from Dongwoo’s heart, fallen between the stars.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i am very proud of this but i am also sorry.


End file.
